


Yes

by leavemewiththerazor



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Romance, Ryden, Smut, Songfic, You're Welcome, cape town, kind of based off of cape town but not as depressing, this is cute i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 23:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12220863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leavemewiththerazor/pseuds/leavemewiththerazor
Summary: "I think I like you a lot, Ryan.""Yeah."Brendon laughs. "Yeah?"I laugh, breathing hard. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes.""Do you like me, too?""Yes."





	Yes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while I was at work. Yes, that's right. I literally got paid to write fanfiction smut. Beat that, guys.  
> Anyway, I hope you like it. I promise this is as cute as it is smutty. Enjoy !!

The houses are a pastel sort of red - full and bright in color, inviting to the eyes. And this boy - this boy right beside me - he is the same. Full and bright in color. Inviting to the eyes. The sun glints off of his brown hair, it makes his brown eyes sparkle. His deep, deep brown eyes. They are the first thing I notice about him.

"I'm Ryan," I tell him, realizing I haven't yet let him know my name.

"Brendon," he smiles. "But you probably already knew that."

I did, actually. Because Brendon plays in the band that we are supporting. The headlining band. Brendon is "all that." Brendon is big news. Little did I know just how beautiful he was. Because when you see celebrities, you see them from afar, even when you're up close. They're shiny and plastic and distant no matter how close you get. But he is here, and he is smiling at me. And suddenly the plastic fades, the shine becomes a glean. He doesn't seem so distant anymore. "Yeah," I say. "Surprising that after all this time on the road together we're only just now talking."

"You know how touring gets," he says, but his smile has a hint of an apology in it. "Busy, busy, busy."

"Yeah," I breathe. Everything I say comes out of my mouth like a dreamy exhalation. And all of his words come out purposeful, confident. And yet, there is something soft in them. Something inviting. Something...

"Do you want to get a drink with me, Ryan?"

"Sure," I say. We have three hours until soundcheck. Three hours until we need to be present and accounted for anything at all. And as far as I'm concerned, that time belongs to Brendon. It's all Brendon's.

We walk together slowly down the dusty road. It is vacant except for a car here, a truck there. The sun beats down hot and heavy, the humidity making my skin feel sticky without my even moving too much. I am anxious for a cold drink, for the relaxation the alcohol will bring me. Because, God, does Brendon make me nervous.

The inside of the bar is just as dusty as the street outside, but it is much cooler. Brendon leads me up to the bar and smiles at the bar tender, a large, muscular man with a scruffy beard. "Two whiskey's please," he says. The bartender nods, gets out two glasses, and scoops ice into each. The whiskey turns a caramel color when it leaves the bottle, hits the ice. Brendon takes one, pushes the other towards me. I take it and then follow him to the booth he is heading towards.  
He sits, and then I sit across from him. "So," Brendon says, sipping at his drink. "how's the tour so far?"

"Great," I say. "Yeah, great. I mean, I'm certainly tired as all hell. But the shows are fun and the entire experience is just..." I gesture with a hand moving above me. "...over my head. Absolutely unbelievable."

Brendon smiles into his glass. "I remember my first world tour. I was in shock the entire time. All the people, the places." He smirks. "The free booze."

I laugh. "Yeah, the free booze is a plus. I think I've been drunk for the majority of my free time."

Brendon leans a bit towards me. "I saw you drunk the other night at the after party." I blush remembering the night that I can't remember. "You were out of it. That was the night you actually caught my eye. You're a cute drunk."

I feel my cheeks get hot and I take a slug of the whisky. It burns my throat, and I choke down a cough. "Oh, please."

Brendon rests a hand in the middle of the table. "No, really. You should have seen yourself. You were swaying all over the place and you started singing real loud to the radio. Oh, and you had this goofy grin that I just couldn't..."

"Couldn't what?"

"I don't know. Resist? I could hardly help myself."

"Well why didn't you say something?" Or maybe he did, and I was too drunk to remember. No, I could never be drunk enough to forget Brendon  _Urie_ making a move on me. 

He shrugs. "I don't know. I get shy."

I force a smug smile onto my face, although I feel anything but. Smug? Hell no. Nervous, my stomach filled with, I don't know, butterflies? Maybe. 

Okay, yes. 

"Brendon Urie? Shy?" I say, fake sarcasm dripping from my tongue. "Never."

"Are you flirting with me?" He raises an eyebrow and then tips his glass back, taking the rest of his drink in one swig. 

This time I smile crookedly. It's genuine. "I don't know. Maybe." I laugh breathily and sip at my drink before leaning back against the booth. "You're making me nervous."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah, but, like, in a good way."

"A good way."

"Yes." I laugh again. "Fuck. You're just so goddamn attractive, you know?" I don't know if it's the nervousness or the alcohol, but something's got me talking, saying words I mean but don't mean to say. "Attractive, and you're funny, and your music... god, your music."

"So you like me?" 

"What?"

Brendon smirks, an eyebrow quirking up. My insides melt. "I mean, it sounds like you've got a crush."

My cheeks get hotter. "Maybe, I... okay, a little." There's no point in lying anymore. 

"Well, good."

"Huh?"

"I said good. Because I happen to have a little crush on you, too."

"On me?" Brendon nods. "Why?"

"I told you. That one night you caught my eye. You were adorable. Charming. I've been wanting to talk to you since."

"You don't mean that." 

His face gets serious. "Sure I do."

I gulp, and then wash down my anxiety with the last of the bitter brown liquid in my glass. 

"Hey, Ryan?"

"Mm?"

"You want to get out of here?  There's this vineyard nearby, I've been meaning to check it out."

"Okay." 

Brendon smiles at me - a flashy, real smile. Not one of those that the tabloids feature. But a real smile. "Alright, let's go." He stands up, steady on his feet despite the bit of alcohol he has had. I wobble a bit, but I am unsure if the alcohol is to blame, or if it's because of the way Brendon makes all of the blood rush out of my head, leaving me feeling dizzy, like I'm walking on air. 

Outside, it is even hotter, but that's only because the back of my neck is warm with the resonance of Brendon's words, his confession, my confession. We walk down a path, and Brendon seems to know exactly where he's going. We move down a dirt road, the amount of traffic decreasing little by little until we are alone and in a garden that smells like grapes. The plants surround us, growing high on their vines, stretching on platforms taller than we are. 

Brendon stops in the middle of a row in the center of the vineyard. "Have you ever been to one of these?"

"No," I breathe. 

"I went to a wedding at a vineyard." He looks out over the area. "It was nice."

"Yeah." Words are escaping me at the moment. 

"Do you like Cape Town?"

"It's beautiful."

"I think so, too." 

"You're beautiful."

Brendon looks at me, surprised. 

"I'm sorry, I. - "

"No, don't be sorry," he cuts me off. "Don't be sorry."

I close my mouth, nervous. He moves closer to me so that we are only an inch or two apart. He is shorter than me, but he feels ten times taller. I can feel his breath on my face. It is warm and sweet. 

"Thanks for coming to get a drink with me," he says. "And coming out here with me."

"Thanks for asking me to." I try to keep my breaths even. Can't let him know I'm nervous. 

"You really think I'm beautiful?" 

I nod. 

Brendon's hand brushes mine before it lands on my back. He closes the gap between us, our foreheads touching. "Can I..."

"Yes." It comes out as a whisper, but he hears it. I know he does, because he kisses me right then and there. His lips are soft, and his mouth is warm and wet, kissing me slowly as though we are lazing in the afternoon, here, and kissing me is a small luxury, a small pleasure, something sweet and peaceful. I kiss him back the same way. 

I feel a hand circling on my back. Moving down, further, further. It lands on my hip, and my breathing hitches. 

"I like you a lot, Ryan," he says, pulling away from the kiss only long enough to say the words. 

"You do?" I ask, and we part so that our foreheads touch again and we are leaning into each other, desperate, hungry.

"Yes. I've spent these past few nights wondering about your name, watching you play your set while we wait backstage, trying to get you alone." He breathes in and then out. "It's crazy, god. I'm crazy."

"No," I say, my stomach twisting in on itself. This must be what they mean when they say that people give you butterflies. "No, you're not crazy. I - "

He doesn't let me finish before he starts kissing me again. He already knows what I am going to say anyway. That I feel the same way. That I have been eyeing him up ever since we started this tour. That every second his band is on stage my eyes are on him. That this - here and now - is what I've been waiting for the entire week and a half we have been on tour. 

Brendon lets his hand rub up and down my upper thigh, and I move my hands - one behind his neck, one in his hair. The kissing intensifies, and we are moving together faster now, acting on our hunger, our desperation, our absolute  _want_ of each other. 

"Brendon," I say.

"Ryan," he answers. 

And then his hands are tugging at the hem of my shirt, begging me to take it off, and I do, my hands automatically moving to pull his shirt off right after mine hits the ground. He smells like sweat and cigarettes and pine and something that is just  _him._ I kiss on his collar bone, nipping slightly at the area where it goes down to meet his chest. He moans.

"Ryan, Ryan, Ryan." He has only just learned my name, but it already sounds so familiar, so _right_ coming from his lips, sliding out of his mouth in his voice. I move frantically, wanting him to say it again. And again and again and again. I rest my hands on his hips, pull him close to me, suck on his neck. "Ryan, fuck." There we go. 

His hands find my zipper, and before my mind - moving slow, now, but not because of the alcohol - can process what is happening, I have already stepped out of my jeans and am standing in my boxers. My eyes are closed, but I can hear him fiddling with his own belt, his own zipper, and I hear his pants slide down, hear hims step out of them, kick them to the side.

His hands find my thighs again, this time moving slow, slow, slow up to my groin, where he rubs me. Fuck, I'm so hard. I know he can feel it. And suddenly I want to be inside of him, want to feel him against me. I ease his boxers down, careful to pull them over his own hard on. I kneel down, taking it in my mouth.

"Fuck, Ryan, ah- Fuck."

I lick over the slit, tasting the first drops of pre-cum on my tongue, and then slide my mouth down over the rest of his shaft, taking him in my mouth fully. "want to be inside you," I groan. 

"Fuck me," he says. So I stand up and turn him around, ease a finger inside of him. He moans, and I can tell he is biting his lip. I move my finger in and out, and then add one, and then another until I have three fingers deep inside him and he is bucking his hips back and forth, forcing me deeper, deeper, deeper inside of him. 

"Tell me when," I moan into his ear.

"Now," he says. "God, now, now, now."

I don't waste a second in replacing my fingers with my cock, thrusting gently at first. In, out, in, out. And then faster. Inout inout inoutinoutinout. I can feel his body all over mine, and we are sweating, the moisture making for lubricant. And I slide easily inside of him - in and out and in and out and - 

He shudders suddenly, and I can feel his muscles tightening up against me, I can feel his body finishing, reaching climax, orgasming. 

"Ryan," he shudders. "Ryan, oh god, fuck."

And that is enough to send me over the edge. I thrust into him, deep, one last time, and I feel my load release into him. I ride out the orgasm, thrusting in and out slowly, moaning his name - "Brendon, Brendon, oh Brendon" - the entire time. When I am spent, I pull out. Brendon gasps and continues panting. We meet in an embrace, our bodies leaning heavily against each other, keeping the other up. 

"Fuck that was - " 

I nod. "Yeah."

"I think I like you a lot, Ryan." 

"Yeah."

Brendon laughs. "Yeah?"

I laugh, breathing hard. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes."

"Do you like me, too?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to go out for pizza after the show tonight?"

"Yes."

"Just you and me?"

I smile and look at him in the eye. "Yes."

"Should we get dressed and make our way back to the venue for soundcheck?"

"Yes."

"Do you think the others will be able to tell?"

I look at the hickeys that are already forming on his neck, feel the scratch marks on my own. "Yes."

"Good." 

I laugh. "Good."

We dress in our now-dusty clothes, our hearts still racing all the while. While we walk back the way we came from, we hold hands. In my mind, all I can think is  _yes, yes, yes._

 

 


End file.
